Nobody's Fool
by Mindy35
Summary: CASKETT. Missing scene without a place for "The Limey". Beckett's in her black dress and Castle sees something he shouldn't. Angst ensues.


Title: Nobody's Fool

Author: mindy35

Rating: K+, adult themes

Disclaimer: Not mine, no monies.

Spoilers: s4 stuff, up to "The Limey".

Pairing: Castle/Beckett

Summary: Beckett's in her black dress and Castle sees something he shouldn't. Angst ensues.

A/N: Inspired by the sneak peeks for "The Limey" (and Stana in that dress!) and envisaged as a missing scene type deal. As it happens, Uni work got in the way and there's no actual place for it in the ep. But…I wrote it anyway, adding some stuff from the ep. Enjoy!

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He heard the delicate click of her heels approaching and stabbed the down button repeatedly in an attempt to hurry up the elevator. Not that he liked his chances of a clean getaway. The subtle scent she wore only on occasion – but that he instantly recognized and reacted to – was already wafting its way over him. She came to a stop beside him, standing just a fraction too close for his comfort. Castle refused to look at her. He absolutely refused to let his eyes be drawn to her face, her figure as she stood next to him in that slinky black dress. Apparently, Kate Beckett owned his eyes as completely as she owned his heart though. They defected her way by pure instinct and without his consent. Her bag was dangling from one hand and she'd thrown a beige wrap around her shoulders, but neither did anything to detract from the very obvious appeal of her usually concealed assets encased in a garment that actually did them justice.

"You didn't change," he noted after a moment, his gaze skimming over her from head to foot.

"No," she answered, keeping her eyes trained on the elevator doors. "I didn't."

Castle cleared his throat, tore his traitorous eyes off her. "Usually, you change out of those things the second you get back to the precinct."

Beside him, Beckett gave a little hum. "This time I didn't."

"I can see that," he mused as the elevator doors slid open to admit them.

Feeling peevish, he made sure he stepped on first. He was not in the mood to play the gentleman or second fiddle to her first. He pressed the button for the ground floor, leaving it up to her to choose where she wanted to go. Then he leant a shoulder against the steel wall, trying in vain to disregard the long, slim arm that stretched in front of him to press the button for the basement parking garage. He aimed his eyes at the emptying bullpen instead, hoping for a few more passengers to fill out the elevator. Usually, he liked sharing an elevator ride with just Kate Beckett, particularly when she smelled so nice. Usually, being alone with her for a scant few minutes was the highlight of his day, his week, his entire freaking month.

Usually.

But not now.

To his dismay, the doors slid closed on the two of them, isolating them in the stuffy chamber. Beckett leant back against the opposite wall, facing him across the small space. He could feel her eyes on him, could hear the slight hitch in her voice when she said:

"Actually, I was…kinda hoping you might like it."

He looked across at her. It took him a moment to realize what she meant. Her folded arms slipped to her sides to give him a better view. And her head tilted, her eyes glittering with an impish uncertainty.

"Me?" was all he said, gaze flitting involuntarily to the dip of her dress.

Beckett smiled slightly under his scrutiny. "Yes. You."

Castle said no more. He turned his head, glancing up at the numbers overhead as they descended.

"But apparently not," she humphed to herself.

"The dress is perfectly fine," he muttered dully, waving a hand in her general direction. "And you are…perfectly fine in it."

"Perfectly fine, huh?" She drew in a breath, her voice silky smooth as she asked him, "Is that why you can't stop checking out my boobs, Castle?"

He faced her, putting his back against his side of the elevator. "Isn't the whole point of a dress like that to…_accentuate_ certain features?"

Beckett shrugged a shoulder and the beige wrap fell off it as if on cue, as if she deliberately wanted to mess with his already messed with brain. "You tell me," she murmured, green eyes glowing.

Castle shifted on the spot, looked down at his feet. "Well. Anyway…I wasn't looking at your breasts, Kate, I was looking—" he stopped, faced front again, literally giving her the cold shoulder. "Never mind. Forget I said anything."

And God, how he wanted to add something bitter and pointed to that last statement. Even if she didn't hear it properly, it would give his wounded heart such sadistic satisfaction. But then he'd be exposed. And right now, avoiding exposure was his top priority.

"You can see it, can't you?" she murmured, a soft little panic in her voice. She frowned at the spot, the spot his eyes couldn't help but be drawn to. "I…I put concealer over it," she said, one hand lifting to her chest, "I thought I covered it up..."

He paused, something inside him softening in spite of himself. "I'm sure no one else noticed. I just…know where it is." He looked across at her, did not even try to stop his eyes from moving to and lingering on that round, red mark punctuating her sternum. "I held my hand over that spot to try to stop the bleeding for…what seemed like a lifetime."

"I don't remember that," she said, her brow creasing with consternation.

"Of course you don't," he replied sharply, before his tone tempered somewhat. "No. That was _after_ you lost consciousness. Before Lanie took over, before they got you in the ambulance." Facing her again, Castle took a few steps towards her, eyes bearing down on hers. "Before you died in front of me, before I watched them shock you back to life. I don't believe it's an experience you easily forget the details of. Especially not when there's _that—"_ he pointed to the poorly concealed scar on her chest, his fingertip mere millimeters from her flesh, "to remind you."

Beckett didn't answer him. She seemed stunned speechless by his words. So the silence stretched between them, hot and tense and dangerous. He saw her swallow, saw her lips part to say something – more lies he had to assume. But mercifully, he was saved from them by the bell. The elevator dinged, opening up on his floor and granting his escape.

"Well, this is me," he announced with all the faux cheer he could muster. "Goodnight."

He exited swiftly, letting all the breath leave his body as he walked away from her. He wasn't quite free and clear yet though. Because he heard her halt the elevator doors, heard her heels rapping fast and loud on the foyer floor as she rushed after him.

"Castle, wait."

He obeyed. Of course he obeyed her, she'd trained him to, he had little choice in the matter now. He turned to face her.

"Can we talk?" she asked, the words emerging in hurried little puffs.

He waved a hand at her, his mask of imperviousness slipping. "I can't talk to you in that thing."

"You can't even look at me, Castle, and it has nothing to do with what I'm wearing." She took another step towards him, seeking to eliminate some of the distance dividing them. When she spoke again, her voice dripped with confidentiality, enticed him with the promise of intimacy. "So are you going to tell me what's going on or just keep me guessing?"

"Look..." He lifted a hand to his face, rubbed his eyes. He had to do something to rid her image from his mind. "I'm really tired right now."

She took a beat, her eyes blinking, her head bobbing. "Tired?"

"Yeah. I had a massive weekend—"

"So I heard."

"And all I want to do now," he went on, ignoring her little jibe, "is go home and see Alexis before she goes to bed." When she didn't respond, he couldn't resist adding in a suddenly severe tone, "I do have a life outside of this place, you know."

"I know," she murmured, confusion flitting across her face.

"So don't you think it's about time I got back to living it?" he asked before turning and heading for the door.

Again, she followed, her step sounding more unsure this time. "Castle…"

He turned at the door with a sigh. "What?"

Silence pervaded the cavernous foyer for a moment, just as it had pervaded their relationship for the past few months. If it could even be called a relationship. A farce was more like it. Castle refused to be the one to break. He would not do it, not this time. If anything was to be said, it had to come from her. This time, she had to be the one to say the words. In the end, all she came up with was a softly spoken:

"Don't."

He might have imagined the pain in her voice, the heartache hanging on that one word. But he hoped not.

"Don't what?"

Don't walk away? Don't sleep with someone else? Don't love me? Whatever the case, she was too late. He was already walking away. He was walking towards someone else, someone who didn't speak in riddles, someone who didn't keep him at arm's length. Someone who wanted him. Or at least wanted his money. Which wasn't to say he didn't love her. She was too late on that score too. Because he did. And probably always would.

But it would be a cold day in hell before he told her so again.

He saw her lick her lips, take a deep breath in preparation. Then he saw her eyes shift behind him. He knew what she was seeing through the glass of the door. Jacinta was outside with his car. His getaway had arrived.

"Nothing." She shook her head, breaking eye contact with him. Then, shooting him an entirely unconvincing smile, she began to back towards the elevator. "Night..."

Castle leant back on the door, feeling it give under his weight. "You look beautiful, Kate."

Beckett stopped in her tracks, staring after him.

She was still standing in the same spot, under the same harsh fluorescent light when he glanced back through the glass a moment later. Her head was bowed, one lock of light brown hair grazing her cheek as she stared in puzzlement at the tip of her shoe. Watching her from the safety of the dark street, Castle wasn't sure why he said it. Except that it was the truth. She was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on. He should've told her that every day from the very beginning. He should've said a lot of things though, should've done a lot of things. Perhaps if he had, things would have been different, they would have been better. Or perhaps not. Perhaps they'd have ended up here anyway. Perhaps he'd only have succeeded in pushing her away sooner.

And who knew, perhaps it was just better this way. Safer. For both of them. And perhaps if he told himself that often enough, he'd eventually start to believe it.

His car horn tooted, making him turn from his contemplation of Kate Beckett dressed to the nines. Jacinta's plastic face beamed at him as she hopped out of his Ferrari. The woman hadn't stopped smiling since he'd met her. He liked that about her. He liked that her fakery was right out there in the open, that her entire personality was so utterly transparent. She threw him the keys, handing over control of the vehicle to him without a second thought. Her sickly sweet perfume assaulted his senses as he dropped into the driver's seat. It repulsed him ever so slightly. But then the reason he liked her was also the reason he secretly loathed her.

She wasn't Kate Beckett.

She was nothing like her. She was blonde. Relentlessly cheerful. Not particularly bright. But easy. And honest. And honest was what he wanted. He'd married two women who lied to him and after divorcing each of them he'd promised himself – never again. Never again would he be played for a fool. Never again would he love someone so disproportionately more than they loved him. Never again would his heart be exposed to the sort of agony that came from trusting the wrong woman.

Jacinta was not the wrong woman. Not for him, not right now. Because when Jacinta approached him, he felt no danger. When she'd flirted with him on the plane, he felt no heat, no anticipation and no uncertainty. And when she'd kissed him later that day, he felt nothing but the softness of her lips, the puff of her breath and the stickiness of her thick lipstick. It was pure sensation. Nothing more. And for where he was at, that was perfect. Because after feeling so much for so long for a woman who refused to feel anything at all for him – a woman he thought he could trust – all Castle wanted to feel now was what Kate Beckett felt.

Nothing.

_END._


End file.
